


A Rocky Relationship

by starksborn



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Early Lore Days, Gen, Mild Gore, Other, Reader-Insert, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 18:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13618782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksborn/pseuds/starksborn
Summary: You're an Agent with the newly recalled Overwatch. Suspicious readings inside a cave cause concern, and you get dispatched to investigate, with Reaper of all people. You're not even sure why he's even here, and you're concerned about being paired with him. Luckily for you, things go better than expected.





	A Rocky Relationship

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something I started about two months after I bought OW, back when we didn't have like, any lore and I forgot about it until recently so instead of changing the whole plot to match the new lore, I just went with what was already written. 
> 
> Also Reaper is a sweet boy and I'm love him.

The caverns are pitch black, the only light source coming from the lamp hanging off Reaper's belt and the one attached to the end of your rifle. Your footsteps echo, piercing the silence with a nerve-wracking tap no matter how softly you step. The air is at a weird temperature being neither hot nor cold, but heavy with enough moisture to cause beads of sweat to line your neck. Do you focus on the sticky feeling of your uniform top against your skin, rather than the rising fear of how deep do these caverns go? Or what if we don't make it out? You've never been one to get spooked easily, but something about this entire mission seems unsettling, and you find yourself incredibly wound up as if waiting for something bad to happen at any second.

Reaper is a few paces behind you, head tilting every now and then as he tries to get a sense of what's happening in the shadows surrounding the pair of you. His face is unreadable beneath the mask, and if not for it and the spots of red on his clothes, he'd blend in with the darkness entirely. You never thought you'd be happy to glance over your shoulder and see that mask of his glinting in the light, but you find yourself shooting looks his way every so often as if worried he's going to disappear into the darkness entirely and leave you to wander underground forever.

"This makes no sense," he mumbles. You get the impression he was intending to talk to himself, but the acoustics in the chamber cause his voice to echo and bounce off the walls regardless.

"What doesn't make sense?" You ask. Reaper doesn't respond right away, and you can hear him exhale sharply.

"This entire mission," he says. You slow your pace down a bit, falling into step next to him and staring up at him with furrowed brows.

"How so?"

"Omics are machines," he says. "Dangerous, yes, but machines nonetheless. They're bound by their core programming, they're not some sort of organic animal that would be gathering by the hundreds in caves like this."

"Unless someone changed their programming," you say. Reaper stops walking for a moment, looking down at you and saying nothing as he resumes his pace. Your frown deepens a little. His non-response is concerning; is he staying quiet because he knows something, and hasn't told the rest of the team? Or is he just mulling your suggestion over?

You decide to go for broke and add to your theory.

"It stands to reason you could reprogram omnics," you say.

"I know," he says, finally. "The question would be who--"

"--or why" you finish. Your eyes widen a little at the realization, and now it's your turn to stop in your tracks. "Why would someone reprogram a bunch of omnics to gather here?"

"Maybe someone's amassing their own army," he says.  
"Then we're back at who," you say. Your first thought is Talon, but you keep that idea to yourself. Reaper's willingness to work alongside the newly recalled Overwatch is constantly in flux. Between old wounds regarding the organization and Soldier 76, and the constant mistrust people keep vocally directing towards him, you can't really blame him for sometimes skipping out on the group. There are times where no one will hear or see anything from Reaper for weeks, only for him to show up at random and slip back into the ranks as if nothing had happened.

Oddly enough, he does always seem to show up right when he's needed the most, and you sometimes wonder if perhaps he monitors what's going on when he's not around.

Your line of thought is interrupted suddenly by a large boom echoing throughout the cave. The floor vibrates violently and dust floats down from the ceiling. The gut feeling of something being wrong flares back up and you feel your heart jump into your throat.

"What was that?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper. Reaper is quiet save for the sound of his breathing next to you until another boom resounds and the vibrations start up again. This one sounds closer and you can't hold in a surprised yelp.

"It's a goddamn trap," he hisses. No sooner than the words leave his mouth does another boom echo, and this time it's close enough to send the integrity of the tunnel out of balance.

You realize as rocks begin falling and the smell of C-4 hits your nose that the noises have been explosives, and all you have time to think before the chamber begins to cave in is this is how you're gonna die. Something heavy slams into your back, knocking you to the ground and causing you lose the grip on your rifle. You think at first it's falling debris until you hear Reaper grunt next to your ear.

Before you can say anything to him, another explosive detonates. Reaper swears violently and you let out a pained cry as something collides with your leg. Pain radiates deep into your bones, and as soon as it shoots up to your pelvis your stomach flips itself inside out. You can't keep your morning breakfast from making a hasty exit, and with the position you're in, you can't keep yourself from expelling it all over one of Reaper's gloved hands. It's amazing in a way that you find time to be embarrassed about it, blushing fiercely in the dark.

The explosions continue for a few more seconds, with Reaper shifting his body on top of you and using his clean hand to cup your head and protect it from anything else. You hear him grunt a few times, and once just before everything goes silent he lets out a strangled yelp that causes your panic to reach even new heights.

When it all finally stops, the cavern is as quiet as it was before, and after all the noise the silence is eerie and does nothing to calm your nerves. Reaper is heavy on your back, and you're not sure if he's even conscious. You try to crawl out from under him to find your leg is pinned by debris and let out a frustrated groan. The pain is still radiating fiercely and you're pretty sure that your leg is broken in at least one spot.

You manage to get your arms under you and attempt to at least push yourself up a little. Trying to do so while pinned under a rock would be hard enough, but the added weight of an unconscious, six foot tall enhanced soldier wearing an extra thirty pounds of armor makes it impossible, and you give up after a few attempts.

"Reaper?" you ask, voice hoarse and the taste of dirt filling your mouth. It mixes badly with the aftertaste of vomit, and the pungent combination makes you cough. Reaper doesn't respond and the panic inside you continues to swell. You take a moment to close your eyes and breathe through your nose to steel your nerves; losing your head now doesn't help either of you.

Once you've calmed down and screwed your head back on, you call out to Reaper again. You're met with more silence, and finally, the panic starts to turn to frustration. Curiously, you try to pull your pinned leg up. The motion sends more shock waves of pain coursing through your system, but you feel your leg slip out from under the debris just slightly.

It's enough to motivate you to try again, and after taking a deep breath you put all your efforts into freeing your leg. You know you can't just stay like this, tucked under Reaper with the pair of you entirely defenseless. Hell, he could be dead for all you know, and there's no guarantee that hordes of enemies aren't on their way to your location to finish the job.

You're not sure how long it takes you finally get your leg free and climb out from under Reaper. Your rifle is buried somewhere under the rubble, and Reaper's own light is flickering on and off, drenching you in complete darkness for seconds at a time. You get yourself into a sitting position and slide next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking him.

"Reaper?" you ask. You're met with no answer once again and you feel along his side with your hand, finding where his light is clipped to his belt and trying to undo it. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, you let out a swear and pull on it with all your strength. Something makes a snapping noise and the released tension nearly causes you to tip over. The small circular light rests in your hands, completely dark and without any other ideas, you proceed to shake it a few times and smack it against your palm.

Oddly enough, it works and the light stabilizes, albeit not as brightly as before.

Satisfied, you set the light down next to you and turn your attention back to Reaper. You can't make anything out with the mask and the hood, so you push the hood back and feel around for the clasps to the mask. You've never seen him without his mask before, and you know that in a normal situation simply taking it from him would be a good way to get shot, but given the circumstances, you decide to risk it and remove it.

Setting the mask down you pick the light up and stick what remains of the broken strap between your teeth to free your hands. It sways slightly and you can see blood caked in his ears and his nose, and a nasty looking gash on the back of his head. You slip your fingers under the collar of his shirt, feeling along his neck for a pulse and wondering the whole time if he even had a pulse, to begin with.

You find it after a moment of fumbling, steady if faint and a small bit of relief washes over you. You try calling out to him a few more times, and each attempt is as unsuccessful as the last. The cut on the back of his head is worrisome, and despite all the things you've heard about Reaper having regenerative abilities, nothing seems to be healing. You dig around in one of your pockets, unzipping it with shaky fingers until you find a pack of smelling salts. You know smelling salts aren't recommended in the case of head injuries or possible concussions, but given the circumstances, you figure the most important thing at the moment is getting him conscious again.

You crack the tube and stick it under his nose as best you can and feel frustration rising again when it gets no reaction.

"Reaper, C'mon," you say, using your other hand to tap his face. You accidentally ram the smelling salts right into his nose in the process, and finally, he lets out a growl. One clawed hand comes up and swipes at you reflexively. You nearly fall over again trying to lean back, and let out a yelp when one of the claws slices right through your sleeve and breaks into the skin. You cradle your arm against yourself, dropping the smelling salts and watching in the dim light as he pushes himself up onto his hands and shakes his head a little.

It takes a moment for Reaper to orient himself, and he sits up in a crouch as his vision clears and adjusts to the light.

"What the hell happened?" he asks. He reaches up to touch his face and you see his expression change briefly as he realizes his mask is off. The expression is gone as quickly as it came, and he gently probes at his swelling nose with the pad of a finger.

"This whole thing was a trap, apparently," you say. "Someone set off a bunch of explosives, and I can only assume we're stuck."  
You watch as his eyes scan your body, and only when he slides over to better inspect your leg do you realize that you've been so concerned with making sure he wasn't dead that you haven't bothered to take stock of your own injuries yet. The pain in your leg is still sharp, causing you to grind your teeth. Reaper slips a hand around your ankle and you let out a hiss as he raises your leg just slightly. He uses one of his claws to cut your pant leg open from the thigh down and you squeeze your eyes shut, turning your head.

"How bad is it?" you ask.

"Well," he says, "your bones are supposed inside your body, for starters..." A small whimper escapes your lips, and you tilt your head back to lean against the rock wall.

"Do you have a biotic emitter on you?" Reaper asks, and you nod.

"Jack yells at me if I don't," you say.

"It's not going to do any good like this," Reaper says. "Last thing we need is for it to cripple your leg."

"What does that mean?" you ask, cracking an eye and watching as he unclips one of his gauntlets and starts pulling his gloves off. He pauses for a moment, lip curling as he inspects the drying puke on the other and directs a frown at you.

"Sorry," you say sheepishly. Reaper just grunts as he finishes peeling them off. He balls up the glove not covered in the remains of your breakfast and presses it to your lips.

"Bite down on this," he says. When you part your lips to ask why, he simply shoves the leather-Kevlar mix into your mouth without letting you speak, adding, "this is going to hurt."

Before you have time to react again, you feel his hands on your leg. The next thing you know, the sound of Reaper forcing your leg to snap back into a proper position fills the cavern, only muffled by the scream that rips from your throat. His glove doesn't do much to quiet the noise as your teeth sink into it, and taste of the material joins the other mix of foul flavors in your mouth.

"Shhh," he says, gently setting your leg back down and sliding up to put an arm around you.

"I thought...setting compound fractures like this runs the risk of more injury?" you ask, pulling the glove out of your mouth. The pain's caused you to start sweating profusely, and you can feel your hair sticking to your scalp.

"Normally, yes," Reaper says. "But in this case, the biotic emitter would have just healed the soft tissues around your bone, and that would have been a bigger mess."

"Oh," is all you manage. Reaper asks where the emitter is, and between the pain and the lightheadedness you're now feeling, you can't remember which pouch or pocket it's in. You feel his hands ghost over you, patting you down until he finds it and reaches in one of the pouches strapped to your chest to retrieve it. The emitter beeps and hisses as he activates it and sets it between the two of you before leaning against the cave wall.

The field lights up the cavern with a warm yellow hue and he takes a moment to get a better look at the surroundings. Slowly but surely the field does its job and you feel the pain begin to ebb away bit by bit, being replaced with an overwhelming tiredness.

"Do you have a distress beacon?" he asks. His voice sounds like it's coming through water and your brain doesn't even try to process the sound, instead insisting very urgently that you sit there and take a nap. You find yourself unable to argue with the logic and don't notice when your head ends up resting on Reaper's shoulder.

When you wake up, the cavern's gone dark again and there's a chill settling into the air. You rotate your head on your neck, listening to it crack a few times, and sit more upright. You notice immediately that the pain in your leg is down to an annoying throb rather than the sharp agony it was in earlier, and that Reaper's no longer next to you.

"Reaper?" you ask, squinting in the dark.

"Here," he says. His form blends in entirely, but you can hear his boots scraping against the ground as he moves around.

"What's going on?" your mouth is dry, causing your tongue to stick to the inside of it and making your voice sound slurred.

"What's going on is that you didn't have a distress beacon on you," Reaper says. "So now I have to figure out how to get us the hell out of here."

"I don't have a beacon because I don't need one," you say. "Winston came up with a new GPS system that sends a ping to the Watchpoint every thirty minutes. The old beacons kept breaking or malfunctioning on us and Winston thought this is a better system."

The sound of Reaper's boots stop as he comes to a halt.

"Why didn't anyone tell me about that?" he asks.

"Well you were, until very recently, repeatedly trying to kill Winston, so..." you trail off, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to stave off the cold.

"Fair enough," Reaper mumbles. He sits back down next to you and you realize how warm he is even with the rapidly cooling air temperature. "How long until they notice something's wrong?"

"It depends on how long we've been down here," you say. "And uh...if anyone's actively watching the system."

"What?!" he snaps.  
"It's a new system, okay?" you say. "There's a lot going on and if something came up it's possible no one is monitoring the pings."

"Goddamn monkey," he grumbles.

"Winston is trying his best, be nice," you chide. Reaper says nothing in response, and a whistling sound fills the chamber bringing cold air with it. You figure it's wind coming in from somewhere, and can't hold back a shiver. The sound of jingling metal and rustling fabric catches your attention as you squint in the dark, about to ask what he's doing, when Reaper covers you with his coat.

"Don't need you freezing to death on me," he says. You smile a little, pulling the coat tighter around yourself.

"Careful," you say, voice teasing, "you keep this up and I'll have to go back to base and tell everyone how sweet you are." Reaper snorts in response.

"The irony being that no one will believe you," he says. "How's your leg?"

"It feels a lot better," you say. "I'm not sure how much weight I can put on it, but for now it's all right." Reaper just grunts in response, and you take it as a sign that he's run out of a desire for conversation for the time being. The two of you sit in silence for a while until something pops into your head, and you turn to look at his silhouette in the dark.

"Hey," you say, "can't you just float on out of here?"

"I don't know how much of this tunnel caved in," he says. "Wraith form isn't something I can hold forever, the last thing I need to get stuck between some rocks."

"Oh yeah, good point," you say. The mental image of Reaper getting wedged into rubble while trying to float out of the cave strikes you as funny, and it takes an effort to cover the laugh up with a cough. Tiredness settles into your system once more, and with no way out and nothing to do until rescue comes, you don't see any reason to fight against it. Your head lands on Reaper's shoulder again as you fade into slumber, and when you wake up next you discover his arm around you and that his own head is resting on top of yours. His breathing is slow and steady, and you figure he must have fallen asleep while you were out. His coat blocking out the cold and the warmth of his body has made you quite comfortable, and you're content to just sit and not disturb him.

You begin to wonder how long it's been since the two of you got dropped off for this mission, and you start trying to figure out where the whole thing went wrong. Given that no one's shown up to kill the both of you yet, you're beginning to think the readings that Winston found about massive amounts of Omnics hunkering down underground were false to begin with. It was clearly a trap to get Overwatch agents inside the cave and then kill them, but that just leads you back to the original questions:

Who and why?

Your money is still on Talon, but if it is them, why would they risk killing Reaper? As far as you know, he still works with them on the side.

Unless they're pissed he's been working with Overwatch again, you think. Mulling scenarios over in your head gives you more questions than possible answers, but it does well to keep your mind off the situation. You start to assume you've been stuck in the cave for a good while now, considering how dry your throat is and how damn thirsty you are. As if on cue, your stomach lets out a rumble, and you can feel acid building up on it from lack of food.

"I hope they find us soon," you mumble to yourself.

You sit in the dark, curled up next to Reaper's side, listening to him breathe and trying to keep the suffocating blackness and rising chill from making you panic. You're not sure how much longer you can deal with being stuck in this situation, and in desperation, you start mentally reaching for anything you can to divert your attention.

You think about mundane things; like remembering you forgot to pick dirty clothes up off your bathroom floor before you left, or that you're almost out the fancy shampoo you like to use.  
Reaper begins to stir after a while, and you turn your head towards him as he raises his chin away from you.

"Don't suppose we've been rescued yet," he says softly.

"No," you say. He grunts in response. "I'm hungry. And thirsty."

"Yeah," he says. "Me too."

You let out a small whine, doing your best not to focus on just how hungry you are. It doesn't work, and you start to think that right now even one of Jack's nasty, cardboard tasting protein bars would be good, and--

\--you shoot up straight, remembering something and digging around in the pocket on your good leg. You pull out a clip of extra ammo and find a small snack bag wedged in underneath it. Jack's always getting on you about hoarding food on missions, but this time, it looks like it's paid off. The contents of the bag are one those cardboard tasting protein bars, but you've never been so happy to find a smashed up piece of fiber and chocolate in your life.

"Now I get to tell him 'I told you so'," you say, unzipping the bag and tearing the wrapper on the bar.

"Tell who what?" Reaper asks, and from the sound of his voice, it's obvious he's still half asleep.

"Nothing," you say, breaking the bar in half and slipping part of it into his hand.

"What the hell did you just give me?" he asks, becoming more alert at the feel of something gooey sitting on his palm.

"I stole one of Jack's protein bars before we left," you say, stifling a giggle at the odd tone of panic coloring his voice with regards to what he's holding. "He's always yelling at me for eating on missions, so I steal his shit in rebellion."

"Oh," Reaper says, relaxing again. He goes to hand it back to you as you quickly devour your half of the bar, adding, "I'm fine."

"You just said you were hungry," you say, licking chocolate off your fingers.

"I don't...process food like a normal person," he says.

"But it can't hurt, right?" you ask. He's silent before finally sighing in resignation.

"Fine," he says, sounding more like a pouting child than a hardened mercenary. You smile at him in the dark, knowing full well he can't see it and relax again. Half of the protein bar isn't near enough to fill you up, but it's something and it does a good job of cutting through the acid on your stomach.

"I don't suppose you've got some water stashed on you?" Reaper asks.

"I wish," you say. "Although survivalists have always said you can drink your own pee in an emergency, provided you're not terribly dehydrated."

"I don't pee," he says, in the flattest tone of voice you've ever heard from him.

"Not...ever?" you ask, almost hesitantly.

"Not since Switzerland," he says.

"Well," you say, without missing a beat, "push comes to shove, we can always share mine."

"I regret starting this line of dialog," Reaper says in the same flat tone. You let out a string of giggles, unable to contain them and you hear him chuckle just a little.

The two of you fall silent again and end up taking turns sleeping on and off. There's nothing else to do in the small area of space you have to move, and with the cave having fallen apart and trapped you, it's not like either of you can make a run for help or try to find water.

Reaper tries to judge the time of day by the feel of the air, and at one point it gets so cold he pulls you into his lap and wraps the both of you in his coat. The height difference between the two of you leaves you with your face tucked into the crook of his neck. You can feel his pulse against your cheek and for a moment all you can focus on is how strong and steady it is. He slips his arms around you and rubs circles on your back with his hands in an effort to keep you and his hands warm and, after a bit of hesitation, you return the gesture.

The feel of his hands on your back and the sound of his heartbeat lull you back into sleep. Despite the pickle you find yourself in, you're able to relax into Reaper's arms and drift away into a series of increasingly weird dreams. One of the dreams causes you to jerk awake and the first thing you notice is the mounting pressure in your pelvis.

This is what I get for making piss jokes, you think. It takes some effort to disentangle yourself from Reaper's grip; he's quite clingy when he's sound asleep, much to your surprise.

Once freed, you pause to readjust his coat over him and then turn to find a place to empty your bladder. It proves to be harder than anticipated in the dark, and you end up squatting down awkwardly and feeling your way around with your hands. You don't want to leave a nasty puddle for either of you to end up sitting in by accident. You dig a handkerchief out of your back pocket, silently thankful years of ending up far away from toilets instilled the habit in you in the first place, and carefully do your best not to get urine on your shoes.

"Well, I can cross 'pissing in a cave' off my bucket list now," you say softly, chuckling to yourself a little. The exhaustion of the situation has you to the point where anything seems funny, but you can't help but think that's better than losing your cool and panicking.

"Why was that on your bucket list to begin with?" Reaper asks. The sound of his voice makes you jump, and your heart leaps into your throat.

"Jesus Christ!" you hiss, zipping your pants back up and turning. "I thought you were asleep."

"That's what you get for making assumptions," he says.

"You get off on scaring people, don't you?" you ask lightly, sitting down next to him.

"Maybe," is all he says. You notice that the air's warmed up from before, and already a new layer of sweat is breaking out across your skin. Your uniform is moist and sticking to you in uncomfortable places, and you're starting to feel like you're never going to be dry again.

"What time do you think it is?" you ask. Reaper doesn't respond right away, and you hear him flip his coat away from his body.

"Daytime," he says. "It's a lot warmer than it was, maybe mid-afternoon. You don't have a watch with you, do you?"

"No," you answer. "I kind of...forgot to put it on before we left."

"You forgot?" he asks. "Good job, Agent."

"I...got distracted, okay?" You can feel your face flushing in embarrassment.

"Whatever," Reaper says. "It's not like knowing the specific hour would do us any good regardless." You turn your heads towards him, eyes straining to see his outline, and suddenly you're thankful that you've ended up in this mess with him instead of Jack. Were you stuck in here with that particular old soldier, there's no doubt he'd get frustrated and somehow manage to blame the entire mission going to hell on you forgetting your watch.

"I've never been so thirsty in my life," you say, trying your hardest not to sound like you're complaining. Reaper makes a noise that's half a snort, half a chuckle in response.

"Just be happy we're not in the middle of the desert," he says.

"Oh, as far as places to be stuck in the wild go, this is entirely preferable to the desert," you say.

Not being able to tell what time of day it is, what day it is, or how long you've been stuck begins to wear on you bit by bit, and you don't notice how much until you're up pacing back and forth in the small space. Reaper calls your name once and you ignore him to continue pacing, and it's not until he practically yells at you that you acknowledge him.

"What?!" you snap, stopping in your tracks and looking down where he's sitting.

"Come sit down," he says. His voice has a tone in it that's at once gentle and commanding, and it serves the purpose of making you feel bad for snapping at him. You do as you're told, sliding down the wall next to him.

"I think my ass is gonna be bruised from sitting on these rocks," you say.

"I'm sure it'll still look fine, though," Reaper says, almost idly. The comment, and probably unintentional insinuation that he's spent any amount of time looking at your ass, at least enough to develop an opinion on it, causes you to bite your lip.

"You spend a lot of time looking my ass, then?" you ask, voice teasing.  
"Maybe," he shoots back. "Maybe I spend a lot of time looking at everyone's ass."

"Even Winston's?" you ask, a grin spreading across your lips.

"How do you manage to completely ruin so many conversations so effortlessly?" Reaper asks though it's clear he's being as teasing as you are.

"Well some people on this team are good at being leaders, or good shots," you say, "I specialize in shoving my foot in my mouth."

"I suppose we all have to have some sort of talent," he says. You laugh a bit and feel some of the tension slip out of your shoulders. You know being trapped in the dark and unable to tell which way is up can do damage on someone's mental health with a quickness, and you're silently thankful Reaper's so good at keeping your mind occupied. You wouldn't have expected before this happened that he'd turn out to be such a good partner to have in what's arguably the worst situation you've ever found yourself in, but you suppose life is funny like that.

"What if they don't find us?" you ask after a while.

"Then I guess they'll have to update my headstone," he says flatly. It gets another laugh out of you, and you can't help smiling and sliding closer to him.

The two of you kill as much time as you can with chit-chat, and eventually, you resort to telling cheap, unfunny jokes just to keep from sitting in silence. One particular joke elicits an agonized groan from Reaper, and he makes you swear you'll stop with them less he decides to shoot you in the kneecap.

Even though he says it there's no seriousness to his voice, but you relent anyway, laughing the whole time.

"I stole that one from McCree," you admit.

"I know," he says. "He stole it from Jack, who stole it from me." His admission makes you laugh harder as you imagine a time where Reaper invented terrible jokes all on his own, and apparently tortured the rest of Overwatch with them. You pull your legs up and rest your chin on your knees, ignoring the way your injured leg still feels oddly tight and stiff.

"You know," you say, "you're not as bad as everyone says you are."

"That's one of the most backhanded compliments I've ever gotten," he says. He falls silent for a moment before throwing in, "but thanks, I guess."

The lack of food and water has you feeling worse than you can remember ever feeling before and it doesn't take long to start getting tired again. Your eyelids get heavy and soon you're asleep and resting against Reaper once more. If he minds, he doesn't do anything about it, because when you're startled awake by loud banging noises you find yourself drooling on his shoulder. You sit up quickly, wiping the saliva off your cheek and Reaper gets to his feet, pulling a shotgun from out of nowhere.

"What the fuck is that?" you ask, panic lacing your voice.

"I don't know," he says. You clamber to your feet, staying close behind him and unconsciously taking hold of his sleeve.

"It's not more explosions is it?" you ask, brows furrowing. Reaper shushes you as the sounds continue. A few minutes of listening and muffled voices begin echoing, followed by dots of light.

"That... sounds like--"

"Reinhardt!" you exclaim, cutting Reaper off and letting go of him."Reinhardt is that you?!"

"Of course it's me!" Reinhardt yells back. "Who else would hammer his way through rocks just to rescue you?!"

"I never thought I'd be so happy to hear your voice, you goofy old man," you call. It takes some time for Reinhardt to break through to the pair of you, and when he does light fills the hole, revealing the jolly old German and Mercy standing next to him.

"What took you so long?" Reaper asks, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling. He loops his finger around the trigger guard of his gun, dangling it from his hand.

"The whole mountain is unstable," Mercy says. "The entrance to this tunnel system caved in on us when we first got here, and we had to stop to dig back out before continuing. Winston and Genji are guarding the outside in case anything happens."

"You people can't do anything right," Reaper says.

"Three days in a cave hasn't improved your attitude, I see," Reinhardt says.

"It's been a rough few days," you add. Before Reaper can snap something back at Reinhardt, Mercy steps forward with a warm smile.

"Let's just get you both back to the ship, shall we?" she asks. "Are you injured? Do you need medical attention?"

"Just some cuts and bruises," Reaper says.

"You call a compound fracture a bruise?" you ask, looking up at him.

"All right, back to the ship, with haste!" Mercy chides, gesturing for everyone to move out. Reaper grunts, following behind her, and you pause long enough to pick up his coat and his mask. You tuck the items under your arm, standing back up and nearly falling down as your vision spins and blurs in front of you.

"Woah there, little one!" Reinhardt says, scooping you up with ease in the crook of his arm. "We don't need you getting hurt more." He carries you out of the cave, and as much as you want to protest and be put down, the weakness in your legs is a good argument against it. You briefly wonder how Reaper himself is still standing as chances are he's got to feel at least half as bad as you do.

The trip back to the base involves Mercy dutifully examining both Reaper and yourself, although you give her fewer complaints than he does. She pays close attention to your leg, probing it with her fingers and making you do all sorts of flexing and stretching that serves only to make it start hurting.

"You did a good job setting this, Gabriel," she says, offering Reaper a genuine smile. He shrugs and grunts in response, turning to stare out the window and you can't help but notice the difference between how he was in the dark of the cave, and how he's acting in the presence of everyone else.

In the cave he'd been almost unguarded, bantering back and forth with you with a lightheartedness, but now that he's around other Overwatch members he's back to being sullen and standoffish.

It's almost like he's an entirely different person.

Upon returning to the base, Jack seeks you out like a bloodhound and starts bombarding you with questions. It takes Reaper getting in his face, and Mercy getting in both their faces before he backs down and lets her take you to the infirmary. She makes Reinhardt muscle Reaper there as well, ignoring his new round of complaining as she forces him into a bed. He only stops back talking her and lets her do her job when she threatens to strap him to the bed.

She explains that you're both dehydrated, and hooks the pair of you up to fluid drips. Reaper tries to insist he doesn't need them, and Mercy pulling out a pair of leather cuffs and repeating the threat of strapping him to the bed is all it takes to silence him once again.

"When can I get something to eat?" you ask once she's got you settled. You also want to get a bath or a shower, but for the time being food is the most important thing on your mind.

"I will fetch you something, dear," Mercy says. You smile at her as she disappears from the infirmary and turn your head to look at Reaper. He's in the bed next to you, sitting up with his arms crossed and absolutely pouting. Mercy returns with food before you can think of anything to say to him, and while you shovel mashed potatoes into your mouth, you watch as she argues with him about making him eat.

Mercy finally wins Reaper over, though he continues his pouting as he digs into his own dinner. She hovers near the both of you, making sure your plates get empty before finally exiting the room and letting you rest. You sink into the bed, staring up at the ceiling and waiting impatiently for sleep to take you.

It comes eventually, though the respite doesn't last long. Your dreams devolve into macabre scenes of imploding caves and explosions, and this reality you find yourself alone. Your leg is broken, you're bleeding profusely and dragging yourself through endless tunnels, calling out for Reaper. No matter how much you wander, he's nowhere to be found and you can't keep yourself from panicking.

The hellish dreamscape is interrupted by the feeling of someone holding your cheek and gently brushing their thumb against it, and the sound of a voice calling your name. Your eyes flutter and your body jerks once, and the dim light hanging between the two beds illuminates the real Reaper.

"Sweetie, wake up," he says softly. His dark skin is washed out just slightly, no doubt a result of the trauma you've both been through and even with the black sclera and red irises of his eyes, the softness and concern are plain on his face.

You open your mouth to speak and realize you have tears in your eyes.

"It was just a dream," he says, speaking for you. "We're both safe now, we're back at the base."

"Sorry," you finally say, thinking you must have woken him up; that you must be inconveniencing him in some way. The embarrassment of the fact that you were mumbling his name in your sleep thankfully hasn't hit you yet.

"Don't apologize," he says, shifting to sit on the edge of your bed and rub circles on your back. "We had a rough few days."

"That's one way of putting it," you say.

Reaper says nothing else to you, falling silent by your side and you find yourself equally without words. Much like in the cave, it's not long before the steady beating of his heart and his mere presence lulls you back into slumber. This time, the nightmares leave you in peace and you sleep until Mercy is waking you the following morning.


End file.
